Finis
by rcaqua2
Summary: One Slayer is dead, and another has been called. HPBtVS xover.
1. Prologue

**Title: Finis**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Harry Potter and all of the characters and places associated with it are a product of the creative genius that is J. K. Rowling. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and the mythos that I'm borrowing belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The only thing I own is the plot and any original characters. India Cohen and Kit Bothwell are from Nancy Holder's _Buffy_ tie-in _The Book of Fours. _

**Distribution: **If you want to post this anywhere else, ask first. I'll say yes, but I want to know. Also, give me credit for it.

**Summary: **India Cohen is dead, and a new Slayer has been called. Warning: HBP spoilers.

**a/n: **This is the latest in my Hermione-is-the-Slayer kick. Unfortunately, I can't get into my account (see profile for details), so I'm going to be posting under **rcaqua2** from now on. After the first couple of chapters, this story is probably going to be moved to the Harry Potter category. Please let me know if I should continue. And, yes, I know in _Once Upon A Time_ I said the Coven only uses phones in apocalypse-type situations, but that isn't true for this story.

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**Prologue**

Cecilia Harrington shifted in her seat slightly and fidgeted with the envelope in her pocket. The emergency meeting was scheduled to start any minute now, but Cecilia couldn't help but wonder which daft plonker had decided to _schedule _an emergency.

Most of her colleagues looked jittery; a mixture of apprehensive and excited all at once. When Celia had first arrived, the room had been filled with intense discussions; the rumors had been flying as fast as someone could come up with a theory as to why the meeting had been called. Now, over half an hour later, the talk had died down and everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting for news. Yet the man behind it all, the one person in the building who could possibly know what was going on, remained in his office, gathering information from his contacts.

Cecilia wondered idly if Quentin Travers had been born bald, or if being a Watcher for forty years had been the reason behind his hair loss. If he had been born with hair, what color would it have been? Surely it would be an unusual color; something that said "I am dignified," while at the same time showing a ridiculously pompous and annoying air. Perhaps green? No, that was far too pretty a color. Maybe a nice hazy brownish orange, the exact color of dried-up vomit. Yes, that was definitely the color.

Cecilia was so absorbed in deciphering Quentin Travers' original hair color that she failed to register the sudden tension in the air for several seconds. When she did, the Watcher noticed that the real-life version of Travers was now sitting at the head of the table, and surveying them all with what he obviously felt was a saddened and mournful expression; in reality, he looked like he was having the time of his life.

"I have just received news from Christopher Bothwell," he began with an expression of marked glee, "It seems his Slayer has died."

So that was why he was so happy. It was common knowledge among the Watchers that India Cohen was a very reckless Slayer, and her relationship with Kit Bothwell was unconventional, to say the least.

Travers continued to give details of the girl's death, but Cecilia didn't hear them. As soon as Travers had announced the girl's death, a strange roaring sound had begun to fill Cecilia's ears. It was accompanied by the same odd sensation she had felt when her father had told her about the Council for the first time.

"Markham, I want you to get in touch with the Coven in Devon," Travers ordered, "Get them to locate the next Slayer."

"Yes, sir," Markham, a new recruit fresh from the Academy, quickly ran off to get on the phone with the witches in Devon.

"Everyone, we need to be on high alert until the new Slayer is found," Travers warned, "God only knows what could be brewing while the world remains unprotected."

Once again, Cecilia fingered the envelope in her pocket, and then resolutely pulled her hand away. Something told her that this wasn't the time. The roaring sound still hadn't left her ears, and she felt like she was missing something. As if there was something she had to do. But what it was, Cecilia didn't know.



Cecilia threw her purse on the couch and sank down next to it. The strange feeling that she was missing something hadn't disappeared in the past three weeks. In fact, it had only grown stronger. The information the Council was getting from the Coven was only confusing her even more.

For about half an hour after Markham had phoned them, the witches' spells had reported the Slayer to be somewhere in Dartmouth. Then they said their spells were showing the new Slayer to be in California- Los Angeles, to be precise. Merrick had been sent to investigate the lead in Los Angeles, and had reported it to be true. Both the Council and the Coven chalked up the Dartmouth result to faulty readings so soon after India Cohen's death had disturbed the Slayer power. Normally, Cecilia would have agreed with that assessment; it had been true enough before.

However, as soon as she had heard the words "Slayer in Dartmouth," the feeling had increased ten-fold. She had figured what the feeling was; a part of her had recognized it from the very beginning. In the diaries of Watchers before her, she had read their words as they described having the same feeling she now had; a need to do something. The same feeling every Watcher felt when they were first recruited. Mortimer Giles had once said that every Watcher was Chosen, just as every Slayer was; sometimes, promising new recruits were sent to their Slayer fresh from the Academy, hoping to cultivate that feeling. And somehow, impossible though it seemed, Cecilia knew she'd been chosen to help a Slayer in Dartmouth- a Slayer who didn't exist.

So she had finally given Travers the letter that had been burning a hole in her pocket for so long. Cecilia Harrington, eighth generation Watcher, had handed in her resignation. He had been wearing the same falsely pleasant, hungry expression he always had around her. There had always been resentment in the Council at the high position her father had secured for her. But, Travers had always had a soft spot for money, which was something Gordon Harrington had had in abundance.

She could tell that when Travers had begun to read her letter he would have expected some small request- a bigger office, a vacation, etc.- that he would have quickly agreed to in the hopes that Cecilia would continue her father's tradition of giving ridiculously large amounts of money to the Council at the Christmas fundraiser. So it was obvious why she had fled the building the second the envelope was in his hand.

Since then, she had gotten a hotel room in Dartmouth and started casting spells to find the hidden Slayer, all the while trying to figure out how there could be two Slayers. At last, she had turned something up. There was the residue of powerful magical energy at a small house about two blocks away from her hotel. Her spells had judged it to be about three weeks old. The same time some Potential had gotten the power of the Slayer.

Every room in the house was immaculately clean, as if someone had wanted it to look as if nothing was wrong. Yet here and there were signs that all was not right with the residents of Number Eight Carey Road. Scorch marks on the floor and splinters of wood stuck so far in the wall Cecilia couldn't make them budge an inch

It wasn't abandoned, and when questioned, the neighbors said the family was on vacation. No, they didn't remember anything unusual happening. Yes, as a matter of fact, the Grangers _did_ have a daughter; her name was Hermione. Where was she now? Probably with her parents or at that friend of hers- the one she stayed with every year. Did she go away to school? Why yes, she did.

So now Cecilia had a name, an address, and some very vital information. She also had an answer. All the past three weeks, Cecilia had wondered why she was the one for this Slayer. What set her apart from every other- better qualified-Watcher? Well, besides her growing unrest, lousy father, and rather large inheritance. Now she knew. Her mother had shared something with Hermione Granger. The same thing Cecilia now shared with the new Slayer. A school.


	2. Chapter One

**Title: Finis**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Harry Potter, and all of the characters and places associated with it, is a product of the creative genius that is J. K. Rowling. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and the mythos that I'm borrowing belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The only thing I own is the plot and any original characters. India Cohen and Kit Bothwell were borrowed from Nancy Holder's _Buffy _tie-in _The Book of Fours_.

**Distribution: **If you want to post this anywhere else, ask first. I'll say yes, but I want to know. Also, give me credit for it.

**Summary: **India Cohen is dead, and a new Slayer has been called. Warning: HBP spoilers.

**a/n: **This is the latest in my Hermione-is-the-Slayer kick. Unfortunately, I can't get into my account (see profile for details), so I'm going to be posting under **rcaqua2** from now on. After the first couple of chapters, this story is going to be moved to the Harry Potter category.

**mya croft- **thanks! I'm glad this hasn't turned out to be the crazy piece of badfic (of which I have a personal horror) that I expected it to be.

**Allen Pitt- **You got it pretty much right. I love insightful reviewers.

**Ringo's Wildrose- **Well, now you're seeing where I'm going with this. (see below). Hee hee.

**Please Review!

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**

**Chapter One**

**A Night to Remember**

_Run. Keep running, There's nothing I can do but run. It's coming. I can hear it behind me. It's breathing hard. The sound of it is filling my ears. It's almost as loud as my heart, but only almost. I don't think anything could be louder than my heartbeat. It's pounding a rhythm into my ears, matching the sound of my feet hitting the floor. It's going to get me, I know it. It can't get me! Help! Somebody help me! _

_Everything is sharper. I can hear the blood pumping in my veins, I can feel it. It smells strange. Like something so sweet it makes you want to gag. It's overpowering. I'm going to die. I can feel it in my bones. This thing is going to get me, but I still keep running. I can't stop running. It's coming closer. Its footsteps are getting louder. It's getting closer. _

_The footsteps have stopped, but I'm still running. I can hear the slight whistle in the air as it jumps. It lands on me. I can feel it, but it doesn't hurt. I feel like I'm not in my body. It's strange. Somehow, I register that the claws are ripping through my back, but I still can't feel the pain. I'm more attuned to everything around me; so much that there is no _me_ left. I notice everything but myself. I feel like this is all some crazy dream and I'm going to wake up any second now, but I know I won't. _

_It's burrowed almost all the way through me. I can feel the blood flowing down my back. It won't be long now. I'll be dead from the blood loss before it has a chance to rip my heart out. Is this what dying feels like? I always imagined it would feel different. More painful, for one thing. The only thing I feel is this strange conviction that someone will find me; not in time to save me, but I know I'll have a grave. And so, I have no fears. I will have my burial and the tomb will be magnificent. I can picture it in my mind's eye, clearer then anything around me. The priests will bless it, and I will have a good home in the Elysian Fields. They will know my name, as everyone knows my name, Tosia, the Vampire Slayer. _

_The claws close around my heart, and at last I feel pain. Little stars of pain dazzle my eyes. Zeus, help me, it hurts. The vision of my tomb fades and all I see is the darkness. _



Hermione Granger woke up, and sat bolt upright, clutching at her chest. The dream had felt so real; it had been as if she was Tosia. She'd been having these dreams for a while now. Once or twice a year she'd get them, but lately, it had gotten worse. The nightmares were coming every night. It had started about two weeks ago, a few days (or really, nights) before the Death Eaters had attacked the school.

_Crash!_

A loud noise from somewhere else in the house jerked Hermione from her thoughts before they could wander down the lane that Hermione had firmly repressed and labeled as forbidden. There was another crash, this one slightly quieter then the first. Hermione pulled back her covers and slipped out of bed. As she neared the door, voices drifted up to her.

"_Leave_ them," someone whispered urgently; it was a woman's voice, although it was harsher and slightly deeper then average. "We have our orders. The girl is our priority."

Hermione tensed, her hand frozen on the doorknob. _Death Eaters._ They must be downstairs… where her parents' bedroom was located.

"Why can't we just have a bit of fun with them?" a whiny voice asked.

"Yeah, they're just lying there, all quiet and helpless," another voice agreed.

The teenager re-crossed her bedroom in seconds and pulled open her nightstand drawer. Enclosed inside was a large, heavy book entitled _Hogwarts, A History_, a brush, a hair tie, and other useful odds and ends, all neatly fit into the small space. Hermione moved all of these aside and withdrew a thin wooden wand.

"We need to find the girl. We can't risk her waking up," the woman's voice snapped.

Without bothering to put her things away or close the drawer- something she had never before failed to do- the witch silently opened her door and slipped along the dark hallway. She ran down the stairs as quietly as she could, frantic thoughts chasing their way through her head.

_What if the other Death Eaters decided to ignore the woman? What if I can't fight them off? _She wondered.

She jumped down the last two steps and landed in the kitchen lightly. There were no doors here, none except the back door which let you out into the garden. Using the back stairs let you enter the kitchen from one end; the hallway opened into it from another. Right across the hall was her parents' bedroom, chosen for the view of the yard. The Death Eaters were staring into the bedroom, bickering with each other on the advisability of a few extra murders.

Hermione silently prayed that none of them would turn around and notice her head poking out of the kitchen doorway into the hallway as she assessed the Death Eaters. Aside from the three Death Eaters Hermione had heard there were two others. Both of them were tall and thin, though one was considerably older then the other. The young one was about Hermione's age, with ghostly pale skin and white-blond hair that seemed to glow in the moonlight filtering in through the high window. The other was sallow-skinned and had greasy dark hair along with a large hooked nose that was visible even in the dim light. Hermione felt a sickening jolt of fear and anger in her stomach as she recognized them; Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy.

The woman who had first spoken was also a brunette, and her wasted looks slightly resembled Draco's. Unfortunately, Hermione recognized her, too, as she involuntarily clutched her wand a little bit tighter. This time the unpleasant jolt in her stomach was out of pure fear. There was no doubt in her mind that Bellatrix Lestrange would spare her, or her parents, any mercy. The other two wizards were both short; one plump, the other skinny. Neither of them looked particularly capable.

The petite pair, along with Draco, would probably be the easiest to take out. It was Lestrange and Snape Hermione had to worry about. Maybe if she just started screaming Unforgivables and jumped Snape, beating him senseless…

No, that wouldn't work at all. Hermione knew she had to think things through rationally or she, along with her parents, would be dead in seconds, but it wasn't easy when every instinct in her body was screaming for her to rescue her parents and hurt the Death Eaters. She didn't have much time to formulate a plan as the Death Eaters wouldn't argue much longer.

Bits and pieces of theories and information flitted through Hermione's head as she watched three of the people she hated more then anyone stand in her house and decide whether or not they had time for a bit of recreational torture. She resolutely pushed all thoughts of anything but her half-baked plan out of her mind as she attempted to think clearly.

Obviously, Snape and Lestrange would present the real challenge, especially Snape, who was a Legillemens, and could read minds. Somehow, she would have to get rid of them first. Perhaps if she hit Snape and Lestrange with a Stunning Charm first, before anyone knew she was downstairs? Yes, that would work, but she'd have to work fast or they'd have their wands out to block her. By the time that Lestrange was down the other three would have their wands out for sure, and they'd definitely try to kill her. If she could draw them into the kitchen and find a way to immobilize them, she'd be able to dash across the hall and use Side-Along Apparition to get to the Burrow. Except it was now impossible to Apparate to the Burrow, thanks to the new wards. Diagon Alley then. Hopefully, Fred and George would still be sleeping above their shop and would be able to help her.

Hermione nodded to herself, satisfied with her plan, and wasted no time in pointing her wand at the tallest figure in the hall and thinking, _Stupefy!_

Snape fell to the ground unconscious. She repeated the process on Bellatrix, and even managed to Stun the short, fat wizard before the other two had their wands out. _Really_, Hermione reflected, _they were _too_ slow_.

Malfoy and the skinny wizard advanced on her, wands drawn. Malfoy fired a jinx at Hermione, but she quickly ducked back into the kitchen and sprang to her feet.

"_Relashio_!" she cried as the two Death Eaters ran into the kitchen.

The two of them staggered momentarily as the jet of sparks hit them in the chest.

"Ow! You crazy cow!" Draco exclaimed angrily.

His companion, didn't bother wasting his breath.

Instead, he gasped, "_Diffindo_!" causing a large gash to appear on the side of her arm.

"_Explelliarmus!_" Malfoy said, apparently recovered.

"_Protego!_" Hermione blocked the charm just in time.

She quickly followed up with, "_Sectumsempra_!", mentally cursing herself for using one of Snape's spells.

"_Protego_!" the short wizard blocked her spell.

Hermione edged towards the door and yelled,

"_Impedimenta!_"

She didn't bother to look back and appreciate the effects of her spell as she ran across the hall, jumping over the unconscious bodies of Snape, Lestrange, and the unknown Death Eater, into her parents' bedroom. She slammed the door behind her, muttered "_Colloportus_,", and ran to the bed, silently thanking God for her parents' habit of sleeping with earplug in; they hated the noise of the city street outside. She didn't want to imagine what could have happened if they had woken up and decided to get in the middle of her duel.

Hermione began to shake her father, trying to rouse him. It didn't work. Frantic, worried, and in an understandable rush, Hermione raised her wand, pointed it at him, and said, "_Aguamenti_."

A jet of water shot out and hit him in the face, soaking Mr. Granger soundly. That _did _wake him.

"Hermione?" he asked groggily, reaching up to remove his earplugs, "What's going on?"

She ignored him, choosing to turn around and point her wand at the slowly opening door, which had emitted a small click just seconds before.

"_Reducto_!" she shouted.

The door, and the people behind it, flew backwards with a loud splintering sound before crashing into the hallway wall. Hermione turned around to answer her father,

"We're in trouble," she said simply, "I can get us out of here, but we've got to get Mum up."

Ignoring his look of surprise, she reached over him to wake her mother up. This time she skipped shaking Mrs. Granger, but went straight to the "_Aguamenti_," Charm.

Once again, she had to answer questions they didn't have time for.

"Mum, Dad, get out of bed and grab my hand," she ordered, not sounding nearly as calm as she wished.

Both of her parents' eyes widened and they opened their mouths to say something. Hermione cut them off.

"We don't have enough time to ask-," she began, but stopped as both of her parents slumped forward on the bed, unconscious.

For what seemed like the thousandth time that night, Hermione whipped around and found two very bruised, bloody, and utterly revolting Death Eaters with their wands trained on her.

"_Incendio_!" Hermione yelled.

The curse hit Malfoy on the leg.

"_Aguamenti_!" he said, dousing his leg.

Hermione edged away from the bed, hoping to keep her parents out of the line of fire.

"_Incarcerous!_" she shouted.

"_Protego!_" the short wizard cried, effectively blocking her spell.

"_Reducto_!" he cried, seconds' later.

"_Stupefy_! _Stupefy_!" she yelled, right before the Reductor Curse hit her.

She flew backwards and crashed into the hand-made wooden desk her mother had gotten for Christmas years ago.

"_Petrificus totalus!_" Malfoy bellowed, trying to freeze the spell.

Needless to say, it didn't work. The Full Body Bind hit her at the same moment as a piece of wood splintered off the shattered desk and pierced her heart. She froze, eyes closed, unconscious and a split-second away from total death.


	3. Chapter 2

**Title: Finis**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Harry Potter, and all of the characters and places associated with it, is a product of the creative genius that is J. K. Rowling. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and the mythos that I'm borrowing belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The only thing I own is the plot and any original characters.

**Distribution: **If you want to post this anywhere else, ask first. I'll say yes, but I want to know. Also, give me credit for it.

**Summary: **India Cohen is dead, and a new Slayer has been called. Warning: HBP spoilers.

**a/n: **Unsurprisingly, I'm now not sure whether or not I'm going to move this story to the Harry Potter category. When I do decide, I'll warn you ahead of time.

**Gaul1- **thank you!

**PLEASE review!

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**

**Chapter Two**

**The Pick-Up**

If you were to look inside Number Four, Privet Drive, you would see an assortment of normal, everyday things (and one very abnormally large teenage boy) scattered throughout every room of the house but one. In this last room (the smallest bedroom in the house) you wouldn't think there was anything extraordinary, at first. But, on closer inspection, you would see that the open trunk on the bedroom floor was filled with robes, brightly colored boxes with moving pictures on them, and books with titles like _Spellman's Syllabary _and _Advanced Potion Making. _If you looked very closely, you would notice that the papers strewn on top of the bed were really parchment and the teenager who slept on top of them was holding a quill pen clutched in his hand.

If you looked even closer, still, you would see a thin, red scar shaped like a lightning bolt that was right in the middle of his forehead. It was a very unusual scar, but Harry Potter was a very unusual boy. He was about as unusual as it was possible to be, even for a wizard. Harry was currently laboring under the heavy task of sleeping, his light snores mingling with the much louder ones of his uncle and cousin.

Now, he didn't often snore, but he was tonight, since there was a piece of parchment stuck to his face thanks to the large amount of ink and drool that had spilled onto it. And although his relatives might be having peaceful dreams, Harry was definitely not.

_A heavy silver locket with an ornate silver _S _engraved on the front dangled in front of his eyes, just out of reach. It disappeared and a long, thick snake slithered into view. A golden cup with badger-shaped handles revolved in the air above a handsome dark-haired teen named Tom. The boy's feature blurred, the pupils became snake-like, and the eyes turned red, making him the skeletally grotesque man who frequented so many nightmares. _

_Voldemort's face changed into that of a greasy-haired man who's face was illuminated in a flash of green light as an old, silver-bearded man fell of a tower. On the way down, Dumbledore turned into Sirius, who turned into James, who turned into Lily, who turned into another redhead, this one a teenager. She hit the ground, face up, and Harry could see Ginny's hazel eyes staring wide open, her arms and legs lying at odd angles. Something hard hit him on the head._

_Something hard hit him on the head?_

As if from very far away, Harry heard a mild voice saying, "Harry, wake up."

Something hit him on the side of the head again, and a woman's voice said, "Mad Eye!"

Harry opened his eyes slightly and saw three people standing over him, although most of his view was obstructed by the piece of parchment directly in front of his face.

"Well, we need him to wake up," a voice growled, "Wake up, Potter."

"He was waking up anyway," the woman sniffed.

Harry slowly sat up and winced as he pulled the piece of parchment from his face.

"Here, let me do that," Lupin said, taking his wand out.

"_Scourigfy_," he said.

The ink and saliva mixture that had been stuck to Harry's face disappeared. Meanwhile, the woman with a heart-shaped face and vividly red hair was looking at some of the letters from Ginny and Ron that were scattered across the bed.

"Hey, do you mind if I sell these to the _Daily Prophet_?" Tonks asked. "I bet they'd pay a fortune for the "Chosen One's" letters."

"That's nothing to joke about," Moody snapped, "Who knows what kind of ideas You Know Who could get from those letters."

Remus chuckled lightly as Harry tried to ignore the sudden pain in his heart at his words. Now, what kind of ideas could Voldemort get from one of Ginny's carefully friendly letters…

"I'm not joking," Tonks defended herself, "I'm perfectly serious. Half the _Prophet _is about Harry these days."

"I'll let you sell Kreacher, instead," Harry said darkly. "I 'spect they'd pay loads for an in-depth interview with my mental house elf."

Tonks snorted and dumped the letters, spare pieces of parchment, half-finished replies, quills, and an ink bottle into the open trunk. Moody took out a pocket watch and checked the time.

"Hurry up," the grizzled ex-Auror said impatiently as Tonks snapped Harry's trunk closed, "We've got forty-one seconds until the Portkey leaves."

"_Locomotor trunk_." Tonks said, pointing her wand at the now-packed trunk.

It levitated into the air and awaited direction.

"Portkey?" Harry asked, following the others to the center of the room and touching a finger to the pocket watch.

"Yeah," Tonks explained, "The new wards won't let us Apparate here, the Burrow, Hermione's, Hogwarts, or any number of other places. And flying is too risky right now."

"What about the Floo?" Harry pointed out.

"The Grangers' house isn't connected," Moody answered.

"Hermione's?" Harry asked. "What does that have to do-,"

Any other questions he might have asked were cut off as they were all jerked forward by the Portkey. Seconds later, they were staggering, windswept, on a cheerful looking porch.

"Where are we?" Harry asked gazing around.

They were in a neighborhood quite a bit like Privet Drive, minus the nosy face of Aunt Petunia staring out one of the windows. The porch the quartet was currently standing on wasn't overly large, but a wicker table, chairs, and quite a few potted plants still fit on it quite comfortably.

"Hermione's," Lupin answered, "We're picking her up, too. Saves time."

"Oh."

Tonks rang the doorbell. No one answered. She rang the doorbell again. Still, no one opened the door. After the fourth time, Lupin turned the knob. The door swung open, unlocked. With a feeling of foreboding, Harry withdrew his wand and followed the others inside.

There didn't seem to be anything amiss here, either. The tiled foyer had been swept clean and a quick check revealed nothing wrong in the living room to the left. Remus and Tonks went up the staircase that rose to the right to investigate, leaving Harry with Moody.

"C'mon," Moody growled, motioning Harry to follow him down the hallway.

Harry complied, and they spent the next three or four minutes looking in the small guest room, the predictably well-stocked library, and the little office that was connected to it. The duo had just exited the small office when both of them tripped over something squishy.

"Oof!" Harry exclaimed, pushing himself up.

He turned around to help Moody up, but found the scarred old man already standing. He was staring through the splintered, recently door-less, entrance to the last bedroom on the hall.

"Potter, get Lupin," he said.

There was something urgent in his tone of voice, in the way that it shook slightly, uncertainly, that compelled Harry to walk over and see what it was that had startled the normally unflappable wizard so much. And when he saw, he froze.

There were two brown-haired adults slumped over on the bed, but Harry didn't see them. There were another two bodies, these covered in cuts and bruises, crumpled on the floor, but Harry didn't see them either. What he _did_ see was a bushy-haired figure lying frozen on top of a pile of splintered wood, with a dark red stain the size of his hand covering part of her chest. _Hermione_. _No, not Hermione, Hermione's body. Ohgodohgodohgod. _

His eyes widened as he stumbled across the room to the body.

Frantic, slightly crazed, thoughts chased each other through his head at a dizzying rate.

_How could she be dead? She was his friend, Hermione wasn't allowed to be dead. What was he going to do? What was _Ron _going to do? Who was going to lecture them and glare whenever they did something stupid? Who was going to show the First Years where to go? _He was shaking her now. _Who was going to help him research, and help act disapproving about Ron and Phlegm? Who was going to help him out of whatever crazy situation he found himself in next? Who was going to be bossy and stop Ron from getting drunk in Hogsmeade?_

Harry didn't realize until afterwards that he must've been yelling, because someone gently pried his hands away from where he'd been clutching Hermione's shirt and said, "Shh, it's going to be all right."

It was Tonks, and her voice was surprisingly gentle, although he could see the tears running down her cheeks, too.

"How is it going to be alright?" Harry demanded savagely. "One of my best friends is dead! D'you hear me? She's _dead_!"

"_No_," Lupin's voice broke in, "She's not. Or might not be. She _is_ frozen, though."

He was now the one kneeling by Hermione's body, his wand was out and there seemed to be a film of white smoke obscuring the two of them.

"Potter, take the Portkey to the Burrow. Tonks, get the girl to St. Mungo's. Lupin, get over here and help me get all of this scum together," Moody ordered, gesturing to the Death Eaters.

"No," Harry objected, the haze in his mind beginning to clear, "I want to go to St. Mungo's, too."

Lupin opened his mouth to object, but surprisingly, Moody was the one who agreed.

"Let him go, it'll be easier to get a private room if the "Chosen One" asks for it, anyway," he said gruffly, pulling the pocket watch out and leaving the room.

"Where is he going?" Harry cried, alarmed.

Their only way of transportation had just been carried out the … well, not door, but close enough.

"He's going to re-enchant the Portkey," Tonks told him, blinking furiously, "We can't do too much magic in here, now. We don't know how long the spell's been on her; too much magic in close proximity can cause the spell to wear off faster."

Harry nodded absently. He shifted from foot to foot impatiently until Moody came back, the pocket watch in his hand.

"You've got a minute before it leaves," he told them.

Tonks nodded; Harry just stared ahead blankly. His friends could _not_ die. It just wasn't right. He needed them, more then anything. He'd never been able to do anything without their help. If they died it would be impossible to face Voldemort; for the first time since he'd entered the Wizarding World, he'd be truly alone.

"Harry?" Lupin's voice broke through his rather dour thoughts.

Harry blinked and noticed the werewolf standing in front of him, holding Hermione in his arms gingerly. At first Harry didn't realize why he looked so cautious, but then he realized it was because he didn't want to disturb the foot-long piece of wood protruding from Hermione's back. He also noticed, for the first time, that Hermione was really frozen, in the not moving at all sense.

"Hold your arms out," Lupin directed.

Harry complied and Lupin transferred Hermione's body to his arms. He felt something small, hard, and smooth being pressed into his hand. Tonks was holding the other end of it, and Harry realized it was the pocket watch. Within seconds they were whisked away, and the silent trio found themselves standing in the unusually empty lobby of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Looking around, Harry spotted a number of large and colorful posters advertising the grand opening of the brand new Pharmacy ("A new way to get all of your Healer-prescribed potion needs!") with that day's date on it, and figured that was where everyone was.

"Follow me," Tonks said, obviously having come to the same conclusion, "There'll still be Healers with the patients upstairs."

Harry nodded and followed her, but they had barely taken ten steps before a crowd of people came bursting into the lobby. Among them, Harry spotted several uniformed Healers, reporters, photographers, and victims of backfired jinxes who seemed to be trying to get one of the Healers' attention. As soon as the first people began to spot Harry, Tonks, and Hermione, a murmur began to spread throughout the crowd and flashbulbs went off. The throng of people immediately began to press forward, while Healers vainly tried to stop them.

Harry ignored Tonks' protests and the Healer's attempts to contain the crowd, and instead walked forward and grabbed a Healer by the arm.

"Harry, what are your views on the attack at Hogwarts?" a blonde witch with two intertwined golden W's on her sleeve, the symbol of Witch Weekly magazine, shouted at him as she attempted to get past a rather large MediWizard.

"She needs help," Harry told the Healer he'd grabbed urgently, ignoring the yells of the group, "She's a friend of mine. Hermione. There was a Death Eater attack at her house-,"

The Healer cut him off.

"Right this way," he said, "Follow me. We need to get her down to the emergency ward."

Harry followed, the reporters still trying to get him to answer their questions.

"Hello, Harry," a vague voice Harry recognized said.

Harry paused and looked back, checking to see if his suspicions were right. There was no duplicating that dreamy voice, though. Sure enough, there was Luna Lovegood, standing at the edge of the loud mass of people as if this were an everyday occurrence.

"Wait!" he shouted to the MediWizard who was pushing them back. "Let them through! I know them… well, Luna, anyway."

The MediWizard obeyed and let Luna through to him.

"Hello, Harry," she said pleasantly, as if they weren't running away from an almost-mob with a half-dead girl who needed medical attention.

"Hi, Luna," he answered, running after the Healer he was supposed to be following.

"So, what are you doing here?" Luna asked as she began to run to keep up with him.

"Er, Hermione," he half-gestured with his shoulder at Hermione's still form.

"What happened to her?" Luna asked again.

"Not quite sure yet," Harry replied shortly.

The Healer stopped abruptly in front of a door with a sign that read, "Room Number 1095." He pushed through the door and gestured to a hospital bed similar to the ones found in Muggle hospitals.

"Put her down there," he said.

Harry did.

"Now, what exactly happened to her?" the wizard asked, taking down a clipboard with a sheaf of parchment attached to it and a quill.

"There was a Death Eater attack," Harry began, reaching back into his mind to describe what he'd seen. Er, I think she Stunned a couple of them. We found her lying in a pile of wood; it looked like it had been furniture- maybe a table? Lupin said she'd been frozen, so I'm guessing he was talking about Petrificus Totalus. Oh, and we're not supposed to use magic around her."

The Healer nodded and wrote all of this down on the parchment. He had just finished when the door opened and another Healer burst in, followed by a very disgruntled looking Tonks.

"Did you get their information?" the second Healer asked the first.

Healer number one nodded.

Before Harry could fully grasped what was happening, he, Luna, and Tonks were ushered outside of the room and into chairs in the secluded hallway.

"What were you thinking?" Tonks demanded as soon as the door closed. "Any number of things could have happened to you without me. There could have been a Death Eater in that crowd wanting to sabotage this event who decided to take advantage of the opportunity and do you in!"

Harry's eyebrows rose at this uncharacteristic outburst and the far-fetched theory that accompanied it.

"And besides that, without you I had to argue with this complete prat of a security guard who wouldn't believe I was an Auror! Apparently," she continued indignantly, "'Auror's don't have red and gold hair"! I suppose there aren't any blondes or redheads in the department, then. And here I thought I would have noticed something like that."

Looking at her closely, for the first time that day, Harry noticed that there were, indeed, bright gold locks of hair slashing through the crimson.

"Well, I like your hair, anyway," he told her truthfully.

Tonks smiled slightly.

"Thank you. Glad _someone_ mentioned it." she said with a sniff.

Harry thought that was a curious statement to make, but forgot about it as Luna asked,

"How'd you convince him to let you through?"

"I Jinxed him," Tonks replied complacently.

Harry snorted before another thought occurred to him.

"What're you doing here, anyway?" he asked Luna curiously.

"Daddy got passes for us so he could cover the opening for _The Quibbler_." She answered.

"Oh," Harry said, surprised.

The grand opening of the new pharmacy seemed like a strangely normal subject for _The Quibbler_, which covered … _unusual_ …. subjects as a rule.

"Yes," Luna said, nodding, apparently under the impression that his "oh," was one of curiosity rather than surprise, "We think the pharmacy might be a secret plot of You Know Who's to poison the patients."

"That's… That's a possibility," Tonks agreed with a slightly strangled tone of voice.

Harry carefully avoided looking at her, knowing that if he did, they would both burst out laughing, and that wouldn't be fair. No matter how "loony" Luna might be, at least she was helping to keep their minds off of what was going on behind the closed door in front of them.



Harry, Luna, and Tonks had been sitting in the hall for just over two hours when a storm of redheads (with the odd brunette, or grey-haired person) descended on them. Seconds later, Harry was wrapped up in a big hug, courtesy of Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, Harry, thank Merlin you're all right. How's Hermione?" she asked worriedly.

"We… don't… know…yet," Harry gasped.

"Mum, I think you're suffocating him," Fred pointed out unnecessarily.

"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley said, springing back from him.

"Thanks," Harry murmured.

"What happened?" Ron asked franticly, pushing his brothers and sister out of the way so he could get to Harry.

"Yeah," Bill said, "Lupin said something about Death Eaters at the Grangers'."  
Once again, Harry told what little he knew. At the end the Weasleys and Fleur looked surprised.

"Hang on, Hermione managed to get three Death Eaters?" George whistled.

"Five, actually," Lupin corrected, coming up to them.

Harry's eyes widened, as did everyone else's. When Lupin had first come to pick Harry up, he had looked perfectly fine- healthier then usual, actually. Now, there were cuts and scratches all over his face and the skin around his left eye was beginning to turn purple.

"Remus, what happened?" Tonks gasped, going over to him.

It was Moody answered, revealing himself to be standing right behind the werewolf.

"He got into a bit of a fight with two of those Death Eaters," the scarred man said.

Harry had expected Moody to be stern and begin lecturing them all on the dangers of attacking Death Eaters if you don't have to. However, the ex-Auror seemed…_smug. _It was almost as if he was proud of Lupin's actions.

"What!" everyone exclaimed.

Lupin looked unrepentant and muttered something about the two slimy bastards (Mrs. Weasley's eyebrows rose) deserving what they got.

Ginny, of course, had to ask, "Who were the slimy bastards?"

"Ginny!" Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both reprimanded.

Ginny rolled her eyes unabashedly.

Harry noticed Lupin hesitated before giving the answer.

"Lestrange-," he began.

Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, and Tonks cut him off simultaneously.

"What? That cow was at Hermione's?" Ron burst out.

"Did you do her in?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"I hope you left a bruise." Harry said.

"We'll lend you some of our stuff if you give it another go," Fred offered.

"Hell, we'll help," George agreed with his twin.

"-and Snape," Lupin continued, undeterred.

This time it sounded as if a bomb had gone off in the quiet hallway, so loud were the rants, death threats, wishes of violence, and other similarly happy sentiments. For once, Mrs. Weasley didn't object to the less-then-polite words uttered. In fact, she seemed to say quite a few of them herself. However, the din was ended by a voice shouting,

"Will you lot shut up!"

As one, the open mouths closed when they realized the voice had been issued from behind the closed door; Harry recognized it belonged to the Healer who had led him there.

Mrs. Weasley took out her wand and conjured everyone more chairs. They had been waiting and talking to each other for about an hour when Tonks stood up and stretched.

"I'm going to get something to eat," she said. "Anyone want anything?"

The rest of them shouted orders and turned back to what their respective conversations. Harry was slightly surprised when Lupin got up and went with her, but figured they just wanted to spend more time together. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Lupin and Tonks were dating. In all of the hours he had seen them together (roughly three) they didn't seem to be overly affectionate together. Maybe they had broken up. He turned back to the twins, who had been telling him and Ron about the new product ideas they had for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, their joke shop.

Thirty minutes later, neither one of them had come back.

"Hey, Mum," Ginny said, looking up from her conversation with Luna on the plausibility of the Rotfang Conspiracy, "Where've Tonks and Remus gotten off to?"

Mrs. Weasley looked around and obviously didn't see them.

"They probably got held up in the line. There was an awful horde of people here for the Pharmacy opening when we arrived. Why don't you go see what's holding them up?" she suggested.

Ginny got up.

"Anyone else want to come?" she asked looking around at the group.

Harry stood up, knowing that he didn't want to see her go off alone, even if there was that awful plunging feeling in his stomach when he saw Ginny turn around with a questioning look on her face, her smile faltering slightly before she hitched it back in place. Thankfully, Ron saw what was going on and came to his rescue.

"I'll go," he said, "What about you, Luna?"

Luna stood up, too, her Butterbeer cap necklace jingling.

"I suppose. I wonder if it's true that there's cooked goblins in the pies left over from Cornelius Fudge's day as Minister," she mused.

Fred hastily shoved his fist into his mouth to keep from laughing at the look that both Ginny and Mrs. Weasley shot him.

"Aah, I s'pose we could use something to eat, right George?" he asked quickly.

George rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you say," he snorted, pulling himself out of his chair.

It seemed like that was it, as Fleur and Bill were too busy snogging to think of coming up for air; Mrs. Weasley had gone back to her tasks of alternately glaring at them disapprovingly and reading the latest issue of _Witch Weekly_. Mr. Weasley was quizzing Moody on all of the Muggle appliances he had seen at the Granger's house, causing Moody to look quite annoyed.

The six of them set off to the fifth floor. Just like the last time they had been there, the portraits of dead Healers kept shouting things at them on their way up.

The annoying Healer from the Middle Ages who had embarrassed Ron two years' ago yelled out, "I see you haven't gotten rid of that spattergroit yet! Mark my words, you've only got a few years left before the ailment-."

At this point Ron, blushing furiously, had taken his wand out and cast a Silencing Charm on the portrait. He was still red when they reached the Fifth Floor, but that might have been because Fred, George, Ginny, and Harry had kept up a steady stream of jokes about his "spattergroit" ever since the Healer had been quieted. Even worse (for Ron, anyway) was Luna's sincere interest in spattergroit, which led her to keep asking him about it. It was with some relief that he pointed out the crowded cafeteria and said,

"Merlin, look at all these people!"

There were certainly a lot of people. It seemed that Mrs. Weasley's original assessment had been correct that Tonks and Remus were stuck in the line.

"Why don't we split up and try to find them?" Harry suggested.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, perking up suddenly, "With any luck you'll be able to get us to the front of the line."

Harry snorted.

"I doubt they'd do that," he said doubtfully.

"Sure they would," Fred countered, "We came a good two hours after you, judging by what good ol' Moody told us, and people were still hanging around hoping for a glimpse of "The Chosen One"."

"Then, these people here…"

Harry trailed off.

The others caught on quickly; Ron drew close to Harry.

"Do you have your Invisibility Cloak with you?" he whispered quietly so no one could hear; Fred, George, and Ginny were busy arguing about the best way to hide Harry while Luna was having a conversation with the portrait of a slightly batty looking old witch.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Put it on," Ron told him, "Quick! No one's looking over here, yet. But it'd be just like on of those reporter gits to get a look at you and start a bloody mob."

"Hold on a sec," Harry said, rummaging in his pocket. He pulled it out of the small space with difficulty. As always, the silvery material felt like woven water and didn't hold a single wrinkle.

Taking a quick look around to make sure there really was no one looking, Harry slid the cloak over his shoulders.

"I'll look with you," he whispered to Ron, leaving the others behind and sifting through the crowd, "Don't want anyone wondering why it felt like someone stepped on their foot when no one's near them."

"Good idea, mate," Ron muttered out of the side of his mouth.

They looked in silence for a few minutes until Ron said, "Hey! I see Tonks!"

Harry looked over his shoulder.

"Where?" he asked loudly, causing several people nearby to look over _their _shoulders.

"There!" Ron pointed to a head of bright pink hair standing near a table, not seeing the startled looks he was getting.

A tiny little girl nearby asked, "Why is he talking to himself?"

"Shh," her mother quieted, "He's probably gotten out of the Spell Damage Ward. One of the Healers will come get him soon."

Perhaps it was lucky that Ron and Harry didn't hear this, as there is no telling what the little girl might have heard.

Meanwhile, Harry was telling Ron that Tonks' hair was currently red and gold.

"But she's a Metamorphmagus," Ron pointed out, "Couldn't she just change her hair?"

Harry could have smacked himself in the head for being so dense when he remembered something.

"Then where's Remus?" he asked. "They wouldn't have split up if they were just standing in line."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth before Ron said,

"They didn't split up. Actually, I think they're pretty glued together." He chocked out.

He had a startled, mildly dumbfounded, expression on his face. Harry followed his line of site until his gaze rested on a couple snogging heatedly together. Beyond them was an empty table loaded down with enough food to feed an army- or the Weasleys and assorted guests. Harry was momentarily so surprised that the cloak fell off of him and hit the ground, causing several people to gasp as he was revealed, and his face soon mirrored Ron's open-jawed, wide-eyed expression (although no one could see it). It was Lupin and Tonks.

"Bloody hell!" George exclaimed, coming up to them.

Fred, Ginny, and Luna followed him.

Fred whistled.

"Hey, Professor!" he called.

Lupin and Tonks broke apart, startled, just as Fred let loose with a wolf howl, causing several people (Remus and Tonks included, even if they were blushing) to snicker. Ginny merely rolled her eyes at her brother's antics and went over to sit with the embarrassed couple as Harry hastily swept the Invisibility Cloak off of the tiled floor, casting the onlookers guilty looks.

"So," Ginny said faux-casually, "What have you two been up to?"

"Ha ha," Lupin said dryly, "Very funny."

"I thought so," she said complacently.

"Watch it, or those snacks might mysteriously go up flames," Tonks warned.

Ginny's mouth snapped shut. Unlike her brothers' threats, Tonks always meant business.

"I don't see how you could," Luna mused, "since Ronald just summoned all of the food so he could eat all of the Fizzing Whizbees."

Ron looked up, his arm plunged into the bag, which was perched on top of the bags and boxes precariously, almost to the elbow and blushed as Harry laughed, although Harry was laughing at the expression on Tonks' face, as was everyone else. Tonks looked like it was difficult to stop herself from retorting.

"Come on," she said, "And you get your hand out of that bag and leave something for the rest of us."

Ron rolled his eyes, "We've already got all the rest of this stuff, who's going to miss the Fizzing Whizbees?"

"Me," Tonks, Lupin, Harry, Ginny, and the twins said at once.

Ron looked disgruntled and withdrew his hand from the bag.

"How'd you guys get this stuff so fast, anyway?" Harry asked as they walked back downstairs.

Tonks rolled her eyes and grinned.

"That Healer I jinxed was one of the people serving lunch today, since they're so understaffed, so I… persuaded him," Tonks answered tactfully.

George snorted.

"Threatened, is more like," he said.

He got a wink in return.

"Now, I never said that, did I?" she asked the group at large, although she was talking to Remus.

"No, I don't believe you did," Lupin answered seriously, but he was grinning. "And this is where we get off." He added, turning into a ward marked "The Gunhilda Gorsemoor Ward. Extensive Spell Damage." according to the sign in front of the door,

"It is?" Luna asked surprisedly. "I thought we were going back downstairs to wait for Hermione."

"We are. He meant he and Tonks are stopping here," Ginny explained to Luna, although not without sending Lupin and Tonks a glance that plainly asked, "What's going on?"

Even though both of them obviously understood the redhead's unspoken question, neither one of them answered it. Instead, they merely told them to come up and let them know when Hermione woke up and walked into a ward. As soon as the door closed and the pair's backs were turned, Fred and George each slipped a number of Extendable Ears, their own personal listening device which was sold in their store, and handed them around to the other four, keeping one each for themselves.

"Let's see what they're up to, eh?" George asked, raising his flesh-colored string to Harry and Ron in a mock toast.

The others slipped their respective Ears into their…ears and watched the Extendables slither towards the door. However, no sounds of conversation filled their real ears. They waited expectantly for several more minutes before accepting defeat. After they had taken the Extendable Ears out, Ginny picked up a gum wrapper from the floor and flicked it at the door. The wrapper soared away about four inches before it made contact with the hard surface.

"She _had _to go and make the door Imperturbable," Ginny groused later as they made their way back down to the first floor, referring to Tonks, of course.

"'Course she did," Fred said dismissively, "Wasn't Tonks the one who taught you how to check if the door's been Imperturbed? Besides, they must've known we'd have them now, since we sell them in our store."

However, he didn't sound angry or disappointed about this last bit. Instead, there was a curious little gleam in his eyes that George, his twin and partner in "crime" (aka the spread of mischief), seemed to recognize immediately, as it was soon mirrored in his own blue orbs. Both of them immediately slowed down so they were walking behind the other four, although the sounds of whispered conversation drifted up to them, too indistinct to distinguish separate words.

"Wish we hadn't given back those Extendables, huh?" Ron said in an undertone to Harry.

"They'd have noticed," Harry reminded him.

"Well, yeah, but I'd give anything to know what they're planning." Ron admitted.

Harry normally would've written off the subject, but there was something carefully light and slightly forced that had been in his voice all day long that kept Harry talking on the subject. Especially since he strongly suspected his voice probably sounded very similar. Everyone's had the strained quality, but he and Ron probably sounded the worst. He could tell, from the way Mrs. Weasley had been sending them sympathetic glances and Moody's shrewd, questioning ones. But that was straying down the path of Unhappy Thoughts, and he'd had enough of brooding. After all, there was no point to it. Not when she was going to be healed any minute, now. It had only been a Muggle wound, Harry had seen Madam Pomfrey fix cuts in seconds. This was just a much bigger cut, that was all.

_So, why,_ asked the little voice in his head, _Has it already been hours?_

Harry resolutely ignored the voice and focused his thoughts back to Fred and George, putting all of his willpower into the sentence that came next. Next to him, although Ron hadn't said anything out of the ordinary, he knew Ron was doing the exact same thing. Because best friends were constant; friendship was supposed to be unshakeable; the one thing that would never change, no matter what else did. And once again, their friendship was being shaken up. But this time it wasn't for some little reason like unrequited crushes. This time it was life or death, and there was nothing they could do to help.

They had reached the First Floor. There was the Lobby, filled with the same colorful Ministry issued posters advertising health safety and protecting yourself from Death Eaters; the Grand Opening posters had already been taken down. They were turning left now, along yet another picture-lined hallway. Past all of the different Artifacts Incidents wards ("Mindila Miffut Ward. Extreme Incidents.". "Zephyrus Zonko Ward. Mischief related Injuries.) and into the hall with the sign "Emergency Patients. Trained Healers, MediWizards and Immediate Family Admitted Only." hanging over it. They passed the numbered doors, which Harry just noticed. There, in front of Room Number 1095, the remaining Weasleys, Fleur (the Weasley-to-be), and Moody were sitting, all entrenched in deep conversation with each other.

"How do you think she's going to take it?" Bill asked concernedly.

"Granger's a good kid- level-headed- but I don't think she'll take it well at all," Moody said bluntly.

Harry threw an arm out and Ron did the same, catching the twins in the chest. Fred and George opened their mouths to say something, but Ginny made a shushing motion and gestured to the grimly conversing Order members, who had yet to notice them standing there.

"Now, Remus said there was still a chance of them making it through. The Healers must be working franticly," Mrs. Weasley pointed out.

Moody snorted.

"Molly, we tried _Priori Incatatem_ on all of the Death Eater's wands, and the Malfoy boy's wand showed exactly what he did to them. If the Healers haven't saved them by now, there's no way they're going to survive." Moody said.

"Alastor, surely there's some way to stop it from progressing in them at the very least," Mr. Weasley protested.

"Dad, there can't be. If their organs really are enlarging, there's nothing to be done," Bill told his father.

"_Oui_," Fleur said, nodding her silvery head, "Zey can't try to reeplaze the parts beecauze eet ees all of ze organs zat are growing too fast, and zey would be too busy trying to stop the growth, zat if zey tried to reeplaze zee organs, zer would be too much time for zee eegzizting ones to burst."

"So they are really going to die then?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her eyes beginning to tear up.

Bill nodded gently.

"There's still hope," he admitted, "Just…"

"Not enough," Mr. Weasley finished.

"It'll be almost impossible for them to recover," Bill continued, "In fact, they probably won't last the night."

"Zat poor zing," Fleur murmured.

"Where's she going to live?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"With us, of course!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, looking at her husband as though he was mad. "She and Harry are practically part of the family, anyway, and Ginny loves her!"

"I know that," Mr. Weasley said patiently, "But we have to get in contact with her Muggle relatives, if she has any, and make it official. And if she doesn't, there's still papers to be filed with the Muggle courts. I suppose we'll have to get the Ministry involved- the Muggle Liaisons Department will take care of the records on that side. Then, there's the matter of her parents' will, and if the Board of Governors will even leave Hogwarts open, because if they don't, we'll have to send everyone to Beauxbatons to finish schooling, in which case, we would need to be her legal guardians, since in the Muggle World she won't be an adult until September, and would need to have adult permission to cross borders, just like Harry."

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said, after this long speech was over, "That's quite a bit we have to do then. I suppose we should get cracking. Bill, will you-,"

"I'll go right over to the Ministry and explain things, Mum," he said, getting out of his chair, kissing Fleur goodbye, and Disapparating.

"Will ze girl get better, 'erself?" Fleur asked, unusually subdued. "'ow will zey manage to get zat steeck from out of 'er 'eart? Surely Summoning Spells won't do eet, zat would be far too large for such a delicate job, no? Ees she even steel alive? 'er 'eart may already 'ave stopped."

"She is still alive," Mrs. Weasley said fiercely, "There's every hope in the world that the Healers will be able to get that horrid stick out of her chest and she'll be up and about in no time, I don't doubt that for a second."

"Still, eet ees sad zat 'er parents are going to die," Fleur said, showing a surprising amount of sympathy. "But I 'ave to get to work, my sheeft starts in 'alf an 'our."

She, too, got up, turned on her heel, and Disapparated with a resounding _crack!_

Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, and even Luna were frozen to their respective spots, all of the color drained from their faces. Suddenly, all of the boxes and bags of snacks toppled from Ron's arms loudly, but he was too stunned to notice. Moody and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, however, were not.

They all spun around, Moody's round blue-eye once again stuck staring forward, so that they had the added unpleasant sensation of both of those piercingly bizarre eyes looking at them at once.

"We didn't mean for any of you to find out that way," Mr. Weasley began.

"We would've told you, but thought that it might be too much," Mrs. Weasley said at the same time, her plump, kind face imploring them not to repeat what they had overheard.

Moody, however, did not say anything apologetically.

Instead, he told them, "So I suppose you lot finally managed to overhear something without those Extra Ears, or whatever the hell they're called. And now you're not going to say a damned word about it. And you four," he continued, fixing the four present Weasleys with a stare, "Aren't going to row with your parents because they didn't tell you right away, because no one really wants to think of it, and the first thing Granger will need when she wakes up is one of you blurting out her parents are going to die. Potter, Lovegood, that goes for you, too. Now, sit your arses down."

They did. Even Fred, George, and Ron, all of whom were now adults. Moody looked fierce.

"You've got questions," Moody barked, "That's understandable, but none of us has all of the answers yet. You two," he pointed at Fred and George, "are already in the Order. And you two," his gnarled moved to Harry and Ron, "are going to be soon. This isn't some stupid question of your maturity or our trust in you, this is a question of whether or not you'd be able to lie to your friend. We don't think you can. However, I think that you'll be able to keep her mind on things that have absolutely no emotional relevance to any of you, since you've been doing that all day, anyway. So, you are under no circumstances to mention her parents to Granger if and when she wakes up."

Everyone but Luna, even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, opened their mouths to argue with one part or the other of what Moody had just said. Luna, however, asked, "Why?" which quieted everyone down at once.

The ex-Auror looked at her approvingly.

"You ask the right questions, girl," he said. "The answer is simple. Granger is almost dead right now, which is supposed to be a "very traumatic experience"," it was clear that the words were not his, "I wouldn't know, been almost done in too many times to have an opinion, but that, along with her parents dying, could be enough to send her into Magical Shock. What's Magical Shock?" he asked, correctly interpreting the hastily opened mouths, "It's what happened to Tonks last year, after that fiasco at the Ministry- she couldn't Metamorphose. It's what happens when shock makes some witch or wizard unable to use their powers. Seen it happen to some of the best, and McGonagall reckons Granger could be one of the best, which means we need her, same as we need everyone else's. Understood?" he barked.

Harry felt the anger bubbling inside of him. So his friend was just some tool? Another "weapon" against Voldemort? That was the only reason Moody was there? To make sure they didn't tell her something any one of them would want to know? Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had his wand out.

"Alastor," Mrs. Weasley said angrily, "Are you trying to tell me that the only reason-."

Moody cut her off.

"Molly, you know that's not what I'm saying. But this is war right now, and they need to understand that these kinds of things happen in a war. It wasn't the first time people have been killed and it won't be the last. They've got to learn to think of what's best for everyone and deal with it," he said, "And I've got to get upstairs and check what's going on with security here. There was supposed to be a Task Force sent out from the Ministry an hour ago."

He, too, Disapparated before anyone could start shouting at him, leaving behind a group of very irate individuals who began to take their anger out on each other.

"What'd he mean by that?" Fred yelled. ""We've got to learn…" Funny, I thought I'd left the learning behind at Hogwarts."

"Well, maybe if you had finished your year at Hogwarts, he might not think you were so immature!" Mrs. Weasley sniffed. "Flying off after turning a corridor into a _swamp_, there's a wonderfully adult thing to do! What people must have thought, I don't know!"

"And it turned out just fine!" George countered. "We're rolling in Galleons, now!"

"And Hermione's not supposed to know about her parents!" Ginny screeched. "If anything happens to you, are they going to do the same thing to us?"

"NO!" Mr. Weasley said. "Do you really think we'd do that to you?"

"I didn't think that you'd do that to Hermione, either, but here we are!" Ginny yelled back.

Harry and Ron were simply yelling at each other, but they stopped and stared at the other two "duelists" for a moment. Neither one of them had never heard any of the Weasleys children (Ron included) yell at their parents like this, and they certainly had never heard the parents yell back like this, either. Sure, Mrs. Weasley might yell and lecture the twins on occasion, but they had never yelled back, and none of them had ever been deliberately vicious. After that moment, however, they, too, were back to shouting at each other over the most mundane of issues (including how much Harry had to put up with from Lavender Brown) in an effort to release their anger. Luna had settled back into her chair again and was reading a magazine Fleur had abandoned with interest.

Once again, their loud yelling was interrupted by a shout, but this time the voice was a friend's.

"_Quiet_!" Lupin yelled over the noise.

Everyone ignored him and continued to scream.

"QUIET!" he repeated, this time _much _more loudly. He held his wand in the air and let off a streak of blue sparks.

They shut up.

"That's better," Tonks said unsmilingly, "Now, what the bloody hell are you lot on about?"

"_Hermione_!" Harry said furiously. "When were you two planning on telling us that her parents are going to die?"

There was a murmur of assent from the younger Weasleys.

Remus looked grim.

"Never." He said calmly.

"_What!_" This time, _all_ of the Weasleys present joined in. Even Luna glanced up from her magazine, looking mildly surprised.

"Never," Remus continued, "Because they're already dead, it seems."

Again, everyone stood stock-still, unmoving.

"I trust that we bought you enough time to send Bill to begin making arrangements before this lot showed up?" Remus asked Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

They nodded, dumbfounded.

"B-But how?" Harry asked weakly. "I saw them in that bedroom, they were just Stunned."

"We thought they were, at first," Remus agreed, "But they wouldn't Enervate, and you probably worked out for yourself that we checked the Death Eaters' wands. Malfoy's and the other one's- we're still trying to identify him- showed pictures of expanding organs. At the time, we didn't think the spell had actually hit anyone. You see, the spell hadn't progressed very far, yet. However, in an hour or so, there began to be signs that it had. Like the persistent fact that neither of Hermione's parents could be woken up. So we brought them here, but the Healers couldn't figure anything out, either. Which means we have a very new, very dark spell out there that no one knows how to combat."

"But what about 'Mione?" Ron asked anxiously. "She _is_ going to be alright, isn't she?

This time, it was Tonks who answered, "'Course she is. But the Healers'll have a right time of keeping her frozen. They're probably going mad trying to keep pouring potion down her throat at exactly the right time so she doesn't overdose."

"So, are you lot going to stop this rubbish and apologize to each other?" Lupin asked.

Slowly, the tension began to evaporate, leaving Fred and George to begin apologizing with their mother and assure her that they were not going to leave the family like "that git, Percy." Once Mrs. Weasley had stopped hugging the twins, Mr. Weasley had stopped hugging Ginny, and Harry and Ron had hugged embarrassedly, Tonks turned to Remus and fell into his arms.

"Oh, Remus!" she wailed. "I'm _so so so sorry_!"

The others looked at her blankly, Remus included.

"What for?" he asked, looking at her like she'd gone mental (she quite possibly had).

Tonks straightened up and beamed at him.

"Well, everyone else got to, and it looked like fun. Make something up," she told him.

He whispered in her ear and Tonks blushed.

"That'll do," she said, though not without a smile.

And so they reprised the scene Tonks had begun to general applause from their audience. There was, needless to say, much fake-sobbing and "tearful" confessions involved. Really, Harry mused, it was more like a Muggle soap opera then anything else. Actually, it resembled one that Aunt Petunia had been particularly fond of, _Say You Love Me_.

Fred turned to his mother.

"Mum, you know how you were talking that Hermione's part of the family?" he asked.

Mrs. Weasley nodded warily, waiting for the line to fall. He didn't disappoint.

"Well, if she and Ickle Ronniekins ever get that sickening can I _please_ kill him?" Fred asked, watching Tonks and Remus act out their improvised masterpiece.

Mrs. Weasley swatted him on the head, even as she and the others chuckled.

"_No_," she said firmly, as Ron scowled, "And you can't kill Hermione, either, before you ask." She added, seeing George's mouth open.

"I wasn't going to say that!" George protested indignantly. "We like Hermione! Well, now that she's developed a proper appreciation for our products and there's no rules she can lecture us for breaking. We need her alive- got to ask her about something. I was just asking whether we could ship him off to South America, instead. They have a roaring trade in circus shows."

Ron's scowl deepened as even Remus and Tonks broke apart from their unfolding drama to laugh.

"Thanks a lot," he told the twins.

"Any time, little brother," Fred said.

"And pick those snacks up, I'm hungry," George added.

"You two pick them up yourselves," Mrs. Weasley told them.

"Fine, Mum," Fred said with a long-suffering sigh, as if he were used to years of abuse like that.

The twins pulled their wands out and summoned all the boxes and bags (respectively) to them.

"Done," they said simultaneously.

"Not quite," Ginny said, reaching up to pull a few boxes from Fred and bags from George. "Now you're done."

George glared at her as she took the last bag of Sugar Quills from him, but didn't say anything, as Mrs. Weasley was watching the proceedings with a watchful eye.

"Anything interesting in there?" Harry asked Luna as she turned another page in Fleur's magazine.

"It's amusing to see the lies printed here," Luna replied, "Did you know that this magazine says Rufus Scrimgeour is leading the Aurors on the offense against He Who Must Not Be Named? When everyone knows that the Minister is secretly helping Voldemort bring down the Ministry. Scrimgeour was Head of the Aurors, you know, when the Rotfang Conspiracy sprouted, which says quite a bit."

"Er," Harry said, "Yes. Yes it does."

"It was nice talking to you, Harry. Now, I'm going to finish reading," Luna said, turning back to the magazine.

Everyone settled down once more and began to think, eat, or, as in Mr. Weasley's case, catch up on some of the much-needed sleep his job at the Ministry had deprived him of; no one was talking, but everyone needed time to think.

Harry tried to imagine what Hermione would feel when she learned that her parents were dead. Gone. She'd never see them again. Would she cry? Probably. How must it feel to think you and your family were safe at home then have the illusion ripped to shreds? What if she couldn't stay with the Weasleys until she turned 18? Harry wondered if her memories of her parents would be painful, or if they'd be a comfort, like his were to him. He wondered if she'd even believe them when they told her.

Would he obey Moody and not tell Hermione? Would any of them? It was a tough question to answer. If he, Harry, were in Hermione's place, and his parents had been alive until just now, he would have wanted to know. But what if she really did loose her powers? Harry doubted that would happen- Hermione was too… _Hermione_ for that, but what if? Would she consider them fair trade for the truth? Harry thought she would. Should they tell her what Moody had said, or would that just stress her out even more? Should he even pay attention to what Moody had said, or should he disregard it like he had wanted to when he first heard it?

Then the door marked Number 1095 swung open and a sweaty, strained Healer stepped out and began to confer with Mrs. Weasley. Harry strained his ears to hear what was being said, as did everyone else (who was awake, as Mr. Weasley was still sleeping).

"We got it out of her heart," the Healer was saying, "And we closed the wound back up, but there's no way to tell if any splinters are still circulating in her bloodstream, which means that one might puncture another organ. These are the potions you'll need to pick up from the new Pharmacy upstairs," he handed her a piece of parchment, "Give them to her twice a day for the next two weeks. They should make sure there isn't an infection."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and clutched the piece of parchment tightly.

"Is there anything else?" she asked concernedly. "When will she be released? Do we have to keep her confined to a bed? Bring her back in later on this week?"

The Healer replied, "We won't be releasing her for at least four days, most likely more, just so we can make sure she's all right. She doesn't have to be confined to a bed, but will most likely need quite a bit of rest, as the potions we used on her to keep her body frozen will have taken almost all of her energy. There's no worry about bringing her back in unless she complains of any pain."

"What happened?" Ron asked anxiously, forgetting that he wasn't supposed to be eavesdropping on the conversation. "Is 'Mione awake yet?"

"No," the Healer answered.

The others took this as an open invite to start voicing their own questions.

"How did you heal her?" Luna asked interestedly, looking up from her magazine once more.

"What took so long?" This question, delivered in a very accusing tone, was predictably from both Harry and Ron.

"She all right?" Fred asked.

"Er," the Healer grinned slightly, despite his frazzled appearance and Harry realized he was quite young, maybe only a year or two older then the twins. "I guess I'll answer in order. One, I think you know. Two, No, but she might be awake soon. Three, using a very complicated and puzzling combination of potions with incomprehensible names and some tricky spell work- if you want to know more, I can explain it to you in a few minutes' time. Four- do I even have to answer that? Would you rather your friend were dead because we had worked too quickly and missed something? Five, would I be standing here answering your questions if she wasn't? Somehow I think that if Number Five was a "no" I would've said that sooner. And now I have a question of my own." He said.

Everyone tensed, waiting for the blow.

"Can I have your autograph?" he asked Harry.

Everyone was so relieved it wasn't anything horrible that they all laughed. For once Harry didn't even mind being "The Chosen One".

"Er, do you have a quill? And some parchment?" he asked the Healer.

"Hold on," the Healer answered as he rummaged through his robe pockets, "I've got them somewhere. Found them!" he exclaimed triumphantly, pulling out a slightly bent Self-Inking quill (another invention of Fred and George's; they beamed when they saw it) and a very crumpled piece of parchment and handed them to Harry.

Harry spread the parchment out against the wall, scribbled his signature on it, and wrote, _Thanks for helping Hermione_.

He had just handed the autographed parchment and Self-Inking quill to the Healer when the numbered door burst open again and the bald Healer who had brought Harry, Tonks, and Hermione to the ward walked up to the young Healer.

"She's awake," he said.

Everyone got out of their seats and followed the younger Healer inside the doors.

"Wait!" the bald wizard shouted after them. "You lot can't go in there. There's still questions we need to ask her."

Everyone ignored him.

Once inside, they saw Hermione sitting up in the bed in her blood-stained pajamas, looking extremely flustered but otherwise perfectly healthy. The group had made their way about half way across the room before Hermione looked at them and said in a perfectly calm voice,

"They're dead, aren't they?"


	4. Important!

** In case you haven't noticed already, I've been able to log back into my other account as rcaqua (no 2, because this penname was created for user-recognition) and that's where this story now "lives" and is updated. So... thanks for reading, now please go read and review the latest chapter over at my other account. **

**rcaqua **


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